Old Wounds Whisper But In Vain

The sole idea was things to sort— Sort out long drawn silence ‘tween us, To coax feelings into focus, Seashore was last arbiter court. But words sounded like wavy sea, Billowed in like smothering smoke, And silence felt far too heavy, Feelings remained as if in cloak. All I somehow could manage was To scribble some words in wet sand In hope, sea breeze would help our cause, Make her respond fair, things to mend. Notso happened to help hurt heart, Nor was magic destined to be. To our divided destiny We drifted way farther apart. Today on that shore once again, I find old wounds whisper in vain. ___________________________________ Musings | 12.01.2019 |